Father's Day
by IronAmerica
Summary: Father's Day in three parts. Some sad, some silly, but still heartwarming in all the right places.
1. Love of a Father

Alright, it turns out my beta was right. I am posting a new story today. Warning: You may need tissues for this chapter.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Father's Day

Chapter one: Love of a Father

Jamie Elaine Fleming was a precocious eight-year-old. (She knew what precocious meant, because she'd looked it up in her daddy's big dictionary that he kept on the bottom shelf, with a box of mommy's pictures.) Being precocious meant she was smart and had to do grown-up things.

Today was also Father's Day, which meant that "grown-up things" included cooking. Her daddy had a lot of people who cooked for him (and sometimes gave her treats when her daddy was busy or looking the other way), but she had to do something special for him. Getting into the kitchen was no problem, of course; she always colored in there, so the cooks made sure she could get in whenever she needed to. Figuring out what to cook, on the other hand…

Jamie frowned at the massive black fridge, bottom lip sticking out in the beginning stages of a pout. But she was precocious, and that meant she had to figure out how grownups did things.

- o – o -

Peter Fleming hadn't been a heavy sleeper in years, not since his wife had…been taken from him. Chess, the madman who shared space in his head, hadn't exactly helped in that regard. This time, however, the fear that woke him up was a little more visceral and close to home. The billionaire threw on a bathrobe and thundered down the stairs in the manor's foyer, heading for the kitchen as fast as possible.

The burning smell hit a little too close to home for him. Pushing down the wave of nostalgia, Peter pushed the door open to look inside. His daughter was sitting at the kitchen table, bawling her eyes out over what looked like a plate of cinnamon rolls. They'd been horribly burnt, and the black smoke drifting up the hood over the stove spoke to the accident that had befallen them.

The billionaire felt his lips twitching up in a smile. Before he knew it, or could stop himself, he was laughing. For the first time in years, he felt something close to genuine amusement at something that wasn't about to kill someone getting in his way.

"Oh Jamie," Peter sighed, scooping his daughter up in his arms. He kissed her forehead before she buried her face in his neck to sob. "It's quite all right, darling." It took a great deal of willpower not to laugh as he carried her to the small, cozy sitting room on the other side of the foyer. The cooks had, perhaps sensing imminent disaster yet again, set up a small breakfast. There was a handmade card sitting on Peter's side of the table.

"I tried to make breakfast," Jamie sniffled as he set her down on the couch. Peter ruffled her hair, smiling a little as she glowered at him and smoothed her hair back into place.

"I know," Peter said softly. "Thank you."

"Happy Father's Day, daddy," Jamie added as Peter went to pour a cup of coffee for himself and a cup of cocoa for her.

Peter smiled.

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Feeling bad for Peter and Jamie? Drop a line and let me know.


	2. The Sweetest Days

Hey, another chapter! Dana is evil, and Vince can't win.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Chapter two: The Sweetest Days

Dana Faraday had the traditional Father's Day breakfast down to an art form, including the part where her husband actually _stayed_ in bed. Her colleagues decided that she'd put so much work into Father's Day simply to drive her husband, a former Army captain, insane. They were probably right.

The year before, Dana had opted to shove a chair under the doorknob on the outside of the bedroom she shared with her husband. As they had an en suite bathroom, it didn't cause so many problems. (And it had only taken him twenty minutes to climb out the bedroom window and use the front door to make his way to the kitchen.) This year, however…

Mrs. Faraday smiled as she flipped the omelet over in the pan, and checked the coffeepot to make sure the coffee was almost done brewing. She'd really gone all out this year. Vince was going to be surprised, and his usual annoyance with her success at keeping him in bed (especially with his failure to do the same with her in May) was going to be fun to see.

"Daddy's awake," Trip said, breaking into her thoughts. Dana smiled at the five-year-old and passed him a plate with his breakfast on it.

"Thank you sweetie," Dana smiled, sending the five-year-old off to watch cartoons in the living room. It was a good thing that Trip had only listened at the door to find out if his father was awake. She really didn't want to explain this year's method… Last year's explanation of why Vince had come into the house in his boxers, so early in the morning, had been a little…awkward. (She'd finally summed it up as "something we'll explain when you're an adult, okay sweetie?". Thankfully, explaining that it was an adult thing had cut out all questions that might have otherwise come up.)

Dana loaded the pot of coffee and two breakfast plates onto a lacquered wooden tray she'd received as a wedding present and set off for her and Vince's bedroom. Opening the door was a bit of a challenge, but she managed it.

"Good morning Vince," Dana smiled. Vince glowered at her, and made a rude gesture. "Vince, do you want breakfast or not?"

Sheepishly, Vince nodded. "Yes please."

Dana smiled and sat on her husband's legs and began cutting up the omelet. "I think this counts as another success," she said conversationally, feeding Vince a piece of omelet. The policeman nodded thoughtfully as he chewed.

After a few minutes, he spoke up. "Thanks for breakfast, Dana, but… Could you untie my hands now? Please?"

Dana laughed and shook her head, before kissing one of his wrists. She knew there'd been a reason she'd kept all of those god awful paisley ties her sister kept giving Vince for Christmas. Tying Vince to the bed was one of them.

"Happy Father's Day, Vince," Dana said sweetly.

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Should Dana, as a lawyer, know better than to tie her husband up? Drop a line and let me know!


	3. He Didn't Have to Be

Alright, this is the last chapter. Amazingly, I've managed to avoid torturing Scales in this one.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Chapter three: He Didn't Have to Be

For a ten-year-old, Scales was rather cynical. He knew this for a fact, because every other nipper on the planet was happy and liked their parents. He hated his foster dad, but… Well, this one wasn't so bad… Not really, anyways, and at least he didn't drink.

One thing he didn't quite get, though, was Father's Day. It was supposed to be something special that you did for your father, or step-dad, or—if you didn't have one of those—your uncle or the nearest male substitute. Previously, Father's Day meant he got to sleep in the trailer June 16th, just so he'd be able to make breakfast for the drunken tosser on Father's Day or risk a beating.

But now… Scales frowned as he stared at the contents of the fridge. He had no idea what Mr. Grayson would do if he didn't have breakfast ready on time for Father's Day. (Alright, he'd been ordered to stay out of the kitchen if Mr. Grayson wasn't there to help out, but this was different.) If he got a chair, he could reach the eggs on the top shelf and make an omelet. Omelets were good, and so was fresh fruit… The only thing he wasn't looking forward to making was coffee, because the grinder was so loud.

From experience, the ten-year-old knew that loud noises that woke the recipient up were a bad thing. He _really_ didn't want to be kicked out onto the street because he'd done something stupid, like waking his newest father-figure up.

Half an hour later, as Scales was attempting to set the table, Mr. Grayson walked in. He had a rather stunned look on his face at the breakfast that had been laid out.

"Nicky…" Grayson began slowly. That was another thing Scales liked about Grayson—the man had given him a name. "Did you do all of this?"

Scales nodded, smiling a little warily. "Happy Father's Day?" he said, although it came out as more of a question. He barely had time to react before Ray grabbed him up in a tight hug.

"Thank you, Nicky," Ray said, settling the ten-year-old on his hip. "I appreciate this, really. But next time… Just wait until I get up before using the stove?"

Dominic nodded happily. "Alright."

And it was probably the best Father's Day either of them had had.

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? About ready to beat the crap out of Vince Sr. for destroying this little family later down the line? Drop a line and let me know.


End file.
